Miss Holmes, the Professor Is Not a Villain

9 – The meeting with Miss Holmes was the worst (9)

To be honest, the gaze of his younger sister staring blatantly at him was terrifying. Mycroft had never felt this kind of fear before.

Though he didn’t intend to disregard his sister, she was a mere 8-year-old child. Even if she got angry, it was rare for her rage to be genuinely perceptible due to her age and appearance. When a cute squirrel gets angry, it looks as if it’s being playful from a human’s perspective.

But in that moment, Mycroft was scared of the way Sherlock was looking at him. Her piercing gaze, tinged with the blood of fairies, stared at him as if it was about to burn him in an instant. Contrary to usual, it wasn’t sparkling.

It felt like coming face to face with something lifeless. Is this how it feels when you encounter a wild beast alone in the middle of the forest?

She unwittingly broke out in a cold sweat and swallowed hard.

Thankfully, her younger sibling finally seemed to realize she was acting rather unlike her normal self, managing a fake cough and bowing her head.

While she was still quite unsettled, thankfully, her sister quickly recovered and swiftly added,

“I… I know everything! You’re actually jealous, aren’t you? Because I’m hogging your home tutor, right?”

“…Hmm. You do sound rather childish, Sherlock. I apologize.”

Mycroft quickly responded. Thankfully, the two siblings soon fell silent, as if nothing had happened, both silently staring at the floor.

Of course, Mycroft had to swallow what she had intended to say next.

Although she was still young, she was sharp and intuitive, almost like Sherlock. If she had been a bit meaner or if she hadn’t been on good terms with Sherlock, she might have attacked when Sherlock rashly revealed her true feelings earlier.

In fact, wasn’t that what you secretly wished for?

As a child who doesn’t want to share a beloved doll with her siblings, isn’t your real desire to remain Moriarty’s sole disciple?

Of course, Mycroft —who cared for and loved her sister— didn’t say such things aloud. But it was still true that, on an intuitive level, she found Moriarty distasteful.

Yet Mycroft could push no further. And it wasn’t only due to the fear of Sherlock’s gaze. It was just ungentlemanly to taint the reputation of their tutor on mere baseless intuition.

Still, she had this undeniable instinctive aversion toward Moriarty as a person.

Although it was a foolish thought, there was something unsettling about how Moriarty played along with Sherlock, freely issuing dreadful imaginary murder cases as simple puzzles.

Of course, Mycroft was aware how foolish she was being.

If a villain was anyone who created horrific incidents in their imagination, then the authors of the trashy magazines her sister so loved would all be London’s top murderers and criminals.

“So why do I keep feeling this way?”

Mycroft mulled. An intangible sensation, something she couldn’t express in words or logically, was sending her a faint but ceaseless warning.

Although it was a presumptuous thought, Mycroft saw Moriarty as a snake-like man. Not in appearance, but as if a snake was nestled within his aura.

In truth, if you just took his looks into account, he was just a good-looking young man. Only those with sharp senses like Mycroft’s could barely discern something more.

And if you thought about it that way, it was truly strange that Sherlock was following Moriarty so wholeheartedly. Sherlock, too, possessed the same keen intuition.

But why?

She didn’t need to overthink it. Undoubtedly, Moriarty had something in common with Sherlock. Unlike Mycroft, who found everything bothersome, Moriarty passed time with Sherlock, engaging in criminal-related puzzles that Sherlock loved, almost like old pals.

No, that’s wrong.

Similar to Sherlock, but also different.

While Sherlock enjoyed novels featuring criminals and puzzles, in truth, what she truly liked, and what she dreamed of as a child, was becoming a detective – the one who solves the puzzles.

Then what about Moriarty?

However, Mycroft didn’t continue this line of thought. At that moment, it seemed just absurd to her.

It’s pointless and overworrying. She simply became jealous without realizing it because her cherished little sister has someone else who she’s interested in, not her family. That’s what Mycroft thought.

Sherlock is still a child, and she’s just throwing a tantrum as children do. It will pass soon enough.

That’s what Mycroft thought to herself. But she failed to realize that she, too, was still a young boy without much experience, let alone Sherlock.

James Moriarty had been leading a very regular and monotonous life for the past two months. As the family tutor, residing in the home’s guesthouse, he was getting the lessons ready for Mycroft, whom he had to teach.

It wasn’t particularly difficult. Moriarty had never met anyone smarter than himself in his lifetime, and Mycroft was certainly an exceptional boy. The boy was naturally not that active, but he was not lazy when it came to learning, and everything was going smoothly.

But the time Moriarty put the most effort into was undoubtedly his time with Sherlock. The time he spent teaching the girl was enjoyable for Moriarty.

If the fools left in Oxford or his shallow family who knew him a bit knew this, they might be surprised. After all, Moriarty was not the type to become attached to or show interest in anything.

This interest was purely for amusement. Sherlock was Sherlock, and that’s why he could enjoy it. Whether she was a girl following him like a father or a future Sherlock, the specifics were not important to him.

Yet, what required his attention and gave him enjoyment, was the preparation for Sherlock’s lessons.

In less than two months, Moriarty had taught her everything he could. The girl was exceptionally gifted. And also, because she was learning from someone she was interested in, Sherlock was focused and quickly absorbed everything.

In fact, he could’ve proceeded with more advanced lessons. But teaching anything beyond middle school mathematics was, in Moriarty’s view, a waste of time. The prodigious child could study that herself. And most importantly, Sherlock was still only eight years old.

The casual chat naturally stretched out after class. But it was far from meaningless. It was time spent on deep conversations for mutual understanding.

Moriarty could feel every moment how truly special the girl called Sherlock was. Actually, it was obvious since she was destined to become the renowned Sherlock Holmes.

However, Moriarty couldn’t resist the instinctive urge to test the girl before him. Therefore, just as he set out a mystery during the first lesson, the moment Moriarty posed a riddle, time began for Sherlock to grapple with it to find the solution.

Of course, Sherlock was thoroughly enjoying this time. And so was Moriarty.

Just that their perspectives were clearly different. If the girl was trying to solve the riddles, learn under someone she admired as the coolest adult in the world, and thereby have her abilities acknowledged, Moriarty took pleasure in watching such a girl.

At the same time, Moriarty discovered another kind of joy. The riddles were for Sherlock, solely for Sherlock to solve, but the act of creating such riddles itself was definitely fun.

It was strange. He had only studied mathematics to live as a mathematician. As he told Sherlock, in truth, mathematics was a subject for solving problems. Essentially, it was about solving riddles, and as he had told Sherlock, such things were not Moriarty’s hobbies or interests.

It was indeed strange. The fact that he wasn’t interested in simply solving riddles didn’t mean the opposite had to be his interest. But Moriarty had to admit that creating riddles suited him more.

For Sherlock, most of the subjects were bizarre incidents typical of magazine novels. Killing a fictional someone suitable for a mystery, and Sherlock, engrossed in being a junior detective, solves it. It was a simple game.

If you think about it, Moriarty was indeed loyal to the villain’s role as Sherlock had misunderstood on the first day.

“Really…this time, it was really brilliant, sir. If you really were a villain, the detectives in London would be different from the novels!”

“Didn’t you say villains must always be caught?”

“Do…don’t tease me! Of course, that’s true, but Mr. Moriarty is not a villain, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Moriarty responded nonchalantly as he stroked the admiring girl’s head. Although avoiding the teacher’s hand she was now accustomed to, Sherlock cautiously opened her mouth.

“But… sir, you definitely are a great person! From what I see, you’ll certainly become the assistant of the best detective in England in the future!”

“Assistant?”

Moriarty asked back at her childlike statement. Then blushing but declaring, Sherlock exclaimed,

“Of course, the best detective will be me, and when that day comes, I’ll appoint the sir as my assistant, after all, you’re someone I’ve approved.”

“…Quite an honor, Detective Sherlock.”

Moriarty responded flatly to the rather embarrassing proposal that felt much like a confession. Of course, neither the listener nor the speaker could seriously comprehend its meaning or emotion.

Perhaps both parties were too smart, leading to this blunder.

Naturally, Moriarty, watching the girl smile broadly at his response, thought impassively that the girl’s wishes probably wouldn’t come true.

It was obvious.

Even he, who hardly knew Sherlock Holmes, knew that the assistant who should be with Sherlock Holmes was Watson. It was a widely accepted fact.

But a thought struck him at that moment.

Then where should he, Moriarty, be?

It was a foolish thought. He was just a temporary figure, who was going to be with the girl for merely about ten more months.

But momentarily, Moriarty feared the passing of that time.

While Sherlock was unable to observe properly due to her happiness over the non-confessional confession received from her teacher, if like usual, she observed everything sharply, she would have noticed James Moriarty’s eyes flash momentarily like a snake.

But for the girl, it was already too late.